Chapter 5 Dex
DEX
My boots thumped against the sidewalk as I walked away from Blaze’s office, giving away my annoyed mood even as I tried to keep a pleasant expression on my face.
When you carried the kind of history I did—my father, my arrest—you didn’t have room for bad moods or scowls.
So it was surprising that the woman whose name I hadn’t gotten had pulled so many out of me.
I couldn’t help trying to put the pieces together when it came to her. The way she shielded her son. The fact that she had a damn guard dog. None of it spoke of good things.
Guilt ate at me. And I’d been an asshole. I needed to apologize, make things right.
What was the right apology for accidentally flashing someone when you thought you were at risk of your dick being bitten off by a ferocious dog? Flowers? Wine? A candle?
God, I sucked at this sort of thing.
“He doesn’t call. He doesn’t write. He doesn’t even tell you he’s moving back to town.”
I looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Roger Oakley wore the same sheriff’s department uniform he’d donned since graduating from the academy straight out of high school. And judging by the fact that his patch now read sergeant, he was moving up the ranks.
I wasn’t surprised. Roger had always been one of the golden gods of Starlight Grove.
Quarterback for the only football team in a decade to make it to state.
Head of the student council. But hanging around with profilers so much at the FBI helped me pinpoint that he had something to prove.
Maybe it was because his dad was a drunk and his mom had taken off when he was in middle school. He needed to prove he was worthy.
“Hey, man. Good to see you.”
“Wylder said you were coming back. Didn’t know it would be this soon.”
“Small towns,” I muttered.
Roger chuckled. “You had to miss it a little.”
Had I? I wasn’t sure. Losing the veil of anonymity I’d had in DC made me feel like I was standing naked right on Mountain View Way. Or maybe it was my earlier encounter with the mystery woman. Hard to say.
“It’s nice to see some familiar faces,” I half lied.
“You want to get a drink at the Boot later? Trav will be happy as hell you’re back. He might even be able to get the ball and chain to let him off the hook for the evening.”
“Travis and Cora got married?” I asked, not shocked that the high school sweethearts had tied the knot but that I hadn’t gotten an invitation. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d kept in touch with my friends here.
Roger shook his head. “Just engaged. But who needs that tight a leash?”
I let out a quiet chuckle. “I guess your lack-of-commitment ways haven’t changed.”
He held up both hands in mock innocence. “I just know who I am and who I’m not.”
“Fair enough.” It wasn’t as if I had future husband tattooed on my forehead. Too much damage and mistrust had been laid in my formative years for that. I had the occasional partner, but even my female companions had grown farther and farther apart.
I was in that weird place where I couldn’t handle something truly serious—the kind of relationship where someone saw all your secrets and scars—but something casual felt unfulfilling at best and cheap at worst.
“So, beers tonight?” Roger asked, rubbing his hands together.
“Sorry, man. I gotta unpack and desperately need a good night’s sleep.”
“Debbie Downer,” Roger complained. “I’ll hit up Mav and see if he’s game.”
“Unless he’s on duty, you know he will be.”
Mav was always up for a good time in all forms. BASE jumping. Mountain biking. A death match round of shots—or hot sauce. But then again, all the Archer brothers had an affinity for the spicy stuff.
“Next time,” Roger called as he headed back toward the station.
“You got it.”
I moved toward my SUV, the correct cabin keys now in my possession, and allowed myself to enjoy the journey a bit more this time. The wide-open landscapes reminded me of what I had, in fact, missed.
The wild edge to those expanses made me feel a little less alone, as if some part of me recognized myself in them. A tumbleweed rolled across the road ahead as the wind picked up, reminding me of the weird games of soccer my brothers and I had played with them after coming to live with Waylon.
As I made the turn onto Briarwood Lane, I took in the raw beauty of it. It was so different from the landscapes in and around DC. There was nothing manicured or refined, no white picket fences or perfect yards, just raw, authentic, powerful beauty.
I’d missed that: the land, my brothers, Waylon, Skylar. It was all I needed.
As I climbed out of my SUV, I heard a shout and braced to run when a peal of laughter came after it. The panic in me eased. Not the screams of a terrified little brother but the shrieks of a happy little boy.
A blur of movement caught my attention as I walked toward my cabin. I could just see a snatch of the yard behind Cabin Two. The little boy raced around, a water gun in his arms, the dog happily chasing after him.
Then there was a flash of blond strands. “Prepare for defeat, dark lord.”
The boy let out a maniacal cackle. “Nevaaaaaaah!”
I stood there for a moment, watching them chase each other, occasionally hitting the other or the dog with a stream of water. Everything about them reminded me of simple joy. Innocence. Something I hadn’t had in so damned long.
So I stayed, longer than I should’ve, soaking up that happy.
And then I forced myself to unlock the door to Cabin Three and step inside.
This one was smaller, with no bells and whistles, but it would be just fine.
There was a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living area that I’d make my office.
It faced Clover Creek and the meadows and forest beyond.
It might not have a mountain view, but that meant cheaper rent.
Given that I didn’t have an actual job at the moment and would be seriously cutting into my savings to build my house, that was a good thing.
I made quick work of unloading my SUV but didn’t bother unpacking my two duffels full of personal items. Instead, I went straight for the tech gear.
Surveying my furniture options, I headed for the smallish dining table and shoved it against one of the back windows.
I’d need to order a gaming chair, or my back would seriously hate me.
I started to unpack one of my monitors but paused as the woman caught her son, rolling with him to the ground as the dog barked and leapt over them in glee.
A ball of emotion lodged in my throat as I set the monitor down. My back molars answered that flare of emotion by gnashing together in frustration. Maybe they were too damn good to be true. Maybe it was all a show.
I hauled my laptop out of my messenger bag and settled on the couch that was more than a little lumpy. Thanks for that, Blaze. Flipping it open, I glanced at the laminated paper on the coffee table. It had a Wi-Fi network and password that was to be shared by all three cabins.
I shivered at the thought of shared Wi-Fi, but it would help me find a little of what I needed. As I logged into my VPN, I made plans for setting up my own satellite Wi-Fi. Within seconds, I could see every single device connected to the shared network.
“Bingo,” I muttered, seeing an iPhone I knew wasn’t mine.
Another handful of seconds later, I was into her device. The lack of text messages raised my hackles, and I instantly moved to her social media apps. Some people thought they had anonymity there. They were wrong.
With half a dozen keystrokes, I was into one of the photo-sharing apps people loved—people who weren’t aware of all the ways it let others into their lives.
I wasn’t sure what I expected of her profile, but it certainly wasn’t an artsy array of photos and the handle SearchingForSunrise.
I frowned as I clicked on a picture, reading its caption.
Yeti loved the bone-fragment exercise. She’s getting better and better at searching for older remains.
“What the fuck?” I whispered at my screen as I quickly went from one image to the next, a clearer picture emerging.
Yeti was a search dog, trained in both trailing searches for live human beings and human remains detection—HRD.
And you didn’t just decide to train a dog for that sort of thing randomly.
You did it for a reason. That had my head lifting, my gaze searching for the woman with the blond hair and secrets in her golden eyes.
“What the hell is your story?”